


A to Z Drabbles: Garak/Bashir

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I gave myself a challenge – open the dictionary to a random page for each letter, pick a word, and then compose a G/B drabble for all twenty-six words. Mostly slash, some gen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A through M

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: As always, Paramount owns them and I'm not making a cent.
> 
> My first attempt at G/B... feedback much appreciated. =)

**Adjust**

“ _Garak?!?!_ All the decent people on this station and you decided to date _Garak?_ ” Miles is so bothered he spills some of his precious genuine, nonreplicated Irish whiskey.

“I understand you’ll need time to adjust to the idea…”

“That’s assuming I ever do.”

“…but I hope you can be happy that I’m happy,” concludes Julian, who spent no small amount of time trying to find the right words for this conversation.

“Do you have a head injury?”

“No.”

“Temporary insanity, then,” mutters Miles, but he stays in Julian’s quarters and takes another drink of whiskey, so their friendship is undamaged.

* * *

**Backwater**

Terok Nor was a backwater, but it was still Cardassian. Deep Space Nine is cold, bright, and filled with Bajorans who loathe Garak on principle. Starfleet’s presence hardly improves the situation, though he will grant that the discovery of the wormhole makes life marginally more interesting and increases his revenues. He discovers a new use for his neural implant two days after realizing that he would happily return to evading Dukat’s (absurdly clumsy – embarrassing, really) attempts on his life if only the station was back in Cardassian hands.

The only bright spot in his existence is lunching with Dr. Bashir.

* * *

**Circle**

Julian rubbed his husband’s back in slow circles to ground himself in reality, because he needed the confirmation that Elim was in fact alive. Anaphylactic shock from Aunt Olivia’s lavender scones, of all things!

“I had no idea your aunt was so opposed to our marriage.”

Julian wasn’t sure that was a joke. “She didn’t poison you. She’s been worried sick and is probably going to spend the rest of our stay apologizing profusely.”

“Are you certain it wasn’t deliberate?”

“Positive. Anyway we’ve only just learned of your lavender allergy.”

“It’s a pity,” rasped Elim. “The scone was quite good.”

* * *

**Disable**

“You are familiar with Klingon anatomy, correct? What would you say are their weakest points?”

It always pays to be suspicious with Garak. “Why do you want to know?” Julian counters, though he doesn’t expect the truth.

“It would help me determine the best ways to disable a Klingon in a fight. We are at war, Doctor.”

The words of his oath spring to mind: … _it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty._

“I’m not having this conversation.”

Not with Garak, anyway.

* * *

**Evacuate**

Julian rushes to Garak’s quarters and wastes no time in informing his lover, “I’ve just returned from an alternate reality courtesy of Jadzia’s microsingularity experiment.”

“Oh?”

“This universe has no wormhole so the station was still orbiting Bajor, and we left as DS9 was going to be sacrificed to save Bajor. No time to evacuate.”

“Isn’t this kind of information supposed to be classified?”

“You need to know.”

“Why?” asks Garak, suspicious.

Julian hopes he hasn’t made a terrible mistake. “Jadzia and I rescued someone. Our – that is, your and my alternates’ – infant daughter.”

For once Garak is absolutely speechless.

* * *

**Filariasis**

“…but the organisms managed to camouflage themselves so the tricorder was unable to distinguish them, which made for a challenging case of filariasis,” concluded Bashir. It was never ideal, from Garak’s perspective, to lunch with him fresh off a medical mystery because the doctor often forgot that not everyone shared his fascination.

He replied, “Hmm, clever things.”

“And I’ve been babbling again.”

“Oh no,” lied Garak. “You’ve been educating me.”

“I’m sorry, Garak. You can tell me I’m babbling, you know.”

Tell the only person who spoke freely in his presence to restrain himself? He would do no such thing.

* * *

**Grungy**

Julian had learned not to underestimate the pleasure that Garak derived from his garden. To him gardening was not particularly enjoyable and he managed to do more harm than good half the time, so he settled for bringing out a book and alternating reading with observing his partner.

Garak, usually so fastidious about personal cleanliness, happily got grungy and dirt-streaked in the process of tending his precious plants. Red leaf tea, it turned out, was a demanding mistress, but Garak thrived on the challenge. Julian liked watching him in the garden to witness Garak utterly content. It never got old.

* * *

**Hierarchy**

Garak feels obligated to warn, “I am a poor choice of partner by Cardassian standards.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think, Doctor?”

“You’re not an exile any longer… you don’t have a spouse that you’ve never mentioned, do you?”

“Don’t be absurd. Surely you have some idea of our social hierarchy.”

“It does come up frequently in your literature.”

“My place is now… undefined. It does not make me desirable.” To say the least.

“I suppose it’s fortunate I’m not Cardassian, then.” He smiles, holds up his hand.

Garak presses his palm against Bashir’s and entwines their fingers. “For me, certainly.”

* * *

**In excelsis**

Garak knew that he could have had Bashir in his bed without difficulty. With a single well-crafted sentence he could have had the pleasure of sexual activity on a regular basis, and of course more of the doctor’s entertaining company to make life on the cold station less miserable.

He never allowed himself the luxury because it would make him weak. He would be relying on another person and worse still putting himself at risk of developing an attachment, both to be avoided from the moment one joined the Order.

Even when exiled Elim Garak remained an agent in excelsis.

* * *

**Journal**

Garak is appalled by the concept of personal logs. “Doctor, please refrain from mentioning me in your journal.”

“Why?”

“If these ‘personal logs’ exist, they are accessible to anyone with enough motivation and technical knowledge.”

“They’re encrypted and private.”

“Which means very little, I assure you.”

“I won’t say anything uncomplimentary about you if it will ease your mind.”

“I would prefer if you omitted any mention of me altogether. What you deem harmless may not be so to others.”

“For a plain and simple tailor, you’re rather paranoid.”

“For a Cardassian on a Bajoran station, I am eminently sensible.”

* * *

**Kismet**

His mother, Julian concluded, had grown sentimental of late. “She’s convinced that this,” he indicated himself and Garak, “is kismet.”

“Kismet?”

“Fate. One’s lot. Determined by the Moirai.”

Garak was predictably opposed to the idea. “I don’t know what a Moirai is, but I suspect it’s inane. Our relationship results from a series of choices each of us made.”

“Moirai were the ancient Greek incarnations of destiny. Many cultures have versions of the concept, you know.”

“You don’t actually believe in kismet?” Garak looked slightly alarmed.

“No, but you don’t actually want me to agree with you all the time.”

* * *

**Legacy**

Richard wishes that Julian and his family lived closer; distance makes their visits precious. Currently he and Amsha are watching their granddaughters in the park. Mila waves from her upside-down position on the monkey bars while Kelli has discovered the fun of going down the slide backwards. She occasionally bumps her head, which isn’t a problem thanks to her Cardassian ancestry but still makes Amsha cringe every time.

He looks over to where Julian and Garak are returning from their walk, pleased with the man –and the father – his son has become. He could not ask for a better legacy.

* * *

**Matrimony**

“One year at Starfleet Medical Research Division. It’s a remarkable opportunity for me.”

“A year on Earth.”

“I’ll be back on DS9 before you know it.”

“That’s hardly accurate.”

“Elim, I…”

“This leaves me no choice but to accompany you.”

“You’ll come to Earth?”

“One year, Julian.”

_\---- One Week Later ---_

“You could get the visa if you had a job waiting or we were married.”

“If you intend to propose matrimony you ought to include Cardassian protocol.”

“You’re serious.”

“I think some adherence to my customs is reasonable, yes.”

“Come to my quarters in two hours.”

“With pleasure.”


	2. N through Z

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback on the first chapter. I'm glad to see that people are enjoying, and it's getting me excited to write more G/B stories. =) Part 2 somehow ended up a bit sexier...

**Negotiate**

“Miles, can you make a very small heater?”

“Of course. How small?”

“Small enough to heat Garak’s half of the bed but not mine.”

“Still negotiating the temperature issue, then.”

“We’re making progress, but I can’t sleep properly if I’m sweltering.” Nor can Garak sleep well cold.

“You’ll owe me a night of babysitting. _Without_ your boyfriend.” Miles is making progress too. He manages not to share any negative thoughts about Garak.

“That seems fair.”

Cheered at the prospect of a date night, Miles asks, “What’re you looking for in terms of heat output?”

Julian can’t answer because he’s yawning.

* * *

**Oryx**

Garak is proud when he manages to kill an oryx without a phaser. There are plenty of the creatures here – wherever _here_ is – but the days are getting cooler and they’re both worried. Julian builds a smokehouse in accordance with their silent acknowledgment that rescue may be long in coming, if it ever does. He uses some precious tricorder battery to determine that the smoked oryx will keep safely, even if it doesn’t taste very good.

There’s one benefit to being marooned, at least: Julian can be as loud as he wants during sex without worrying over DS9’s subpar soundproofing.

* * *

**Peril**

Instead of peril over the English Channel Miles suggested they try a rock climbing program. Julian, always interested in new experiences, agreed, but his leg muscles would have preferred the Battle of Britain.

Miles paused to look at him with concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit sore.” Smiling at the memory of a _very_ enjoyable evening with Garak, he added, “You know how it is after a night of vigorous physical intimacy.” Worth a touch of soreness every time, no question.

Miles cringed. “Julian, if I ever hear about your sex life again, it’ll be too soon.”

* * *

**Quaff**

Occasionally Julian meets Jadzia for drinks and discussion on the challenges of interspecies romance. Where others merely tolerate his relationship, Jadzia approves because Julian is happy.

She quaffs Quark’s latest special. “Nerys doesn’t understand my relationship any more than yours.”

The special is surprisingly good. “She likes Worf better than Garak,” counters Julian.

“True. But she doesn’t understand his appeal.”

“To be honest, neither do I.”

Jadzia laughs. “At least you accept that he appeals to me.”

“I understand the concept of an allure that nobody else sees.”

She raises her mug. “To relationships that confound everyone else.”

“Here, here.”

* * *

**Red**

Cardassians don’t like bright red, so Julian has adopted the color as his favorite. On this grey planet it suits him. He is an outcast from his home, a genetic freak; he speaks Cardassi and holds Cardassian citizenship; he hasn’t even seen another human in five years, but he’s damned if he is going to be completely Cardassianized. Garak gave up trying to talk him out of red clothing years ago.

Neither of them saw the assassin, but when Julian stares at the red blood spilling from his chest, his thinks it proves that he is still human, after all.

* * *

**Shop**

Garak’s Clothiers is devoid of customers. Excellent. Julian locks the door behind him and turns off the ‘Open’ sign. “Computer, lights to twenty percent.”

“What are you doing?” asks Garak, perturbed.

“Fulfilling a fantasy.”

Now his lover is more interested. “Seducing me in my shop?”

“The original fantasy was you seducing me in your shop.”

Very interested indeed. “That can be arranged.”

“I’d hoped so.”

“Are there any other elements of this fantasy I should be aware of?”

“How do you feel about a hedonistic romp in your storeroom?”

Garak’s dialated pupils and flushed ridges answer the question for him.

* * *

**Took**

Dr. Bashir was more cynical after his return from Romulus, suspiciously so to Garak’s mind. Thus Garak applied himself to determining what caused the doctor’s attitude to change. Something involving Senator Cretak’s downfall, he gathered from the guilt Bashir was unable to completely hide when she was mentioned. Section 31 was involved because Bashir was not a talented enough actor to convince Garak he hadn’t known that the Federation had such an organization. Whatever had transpired took away a part of Bashir that would never return. This change made Bashir more realistic in outlook, but Garak found it regrettable nevertheless.

* * *

**Unexampled**

Julian chafes at the iniquity when Garak returns to DS9. “I’m sorry, Garak. I know Cardassia means more to you than I can comprehend.”

“I live for the good of Cardassia. As my presence is detrimental, my duty to leave was clear.”

“Your own never ending sacrifice.” He imagines Garak’s devotion is, if not unexampled, unsurpassed in Cardassian history.

“You might reread that epic.” The lack of denial is something approaching honesty, from Garak.

“I will. Lunch tomorrow, 1300?”

“I look forward to it, Doctor.”

Garak heads for his shop, leaving Julian to contemplate how everything and nothing has changed.

* * *

**Versatility**

“I do appreciate the trousers. I just can’t wear them in public,” Julian informs Garak.

“Whyever not?”

“They’re a bit too comfortable.”

“Impossible.”

“Possible for those of us who don’t retract our reproductive organs, when the silk is too thin for underwear.”

Garak’s eyes widen in disbelief. “The trousers _arouse_ you?”

“Oh yes.”

“This has fascinating potential. I think a demonstration is in order.” His voice drops to a purr.

A clothing kink? That’s unexpected, but Julian considers his sexual versatility a point of pride. “I expect you to make it worth my while.”

“Naturally.”

This should be very enjoyable.

* * *

**Woolgathering**

Julian is surprised to find Garak on the Promenade lost in woolgathering. It’s unprecedented that he waits two full minutes for Garak to notice him.

“Doctor?”

“Garak. Are you alright?”

He eyes his surroundings carefully, gaze pausing at the Bajoran temple. “Yes, of course. Did you say the Orb of Contemplation is in the temple?”

“Yes.”

“Fascinating.”

Julian puts the pieces together. “Did you have an Orb experience?” His friend has been uncertain since Tain died and Dukat took over Cardassia. Maybe he needs this to move forward.

“Not here, Doctor,” Garak hisses, and Julian knows he’s correct.

Fascinating, indeed.

* * *

**Xenophobe**

When he heard others call Bashir a freak Garak remembered that not all xenophobes focused their ire on aliens. Despite the efforts of his friends, the doctor withdrew into himself ever further. Garak didn’t offer any words; if Bashir wouldn’t believe words from those who regularly spoke truth he wouldn’t believe them from Garak. Instead he showed up at the doctor’s quarters to offer truth in the form of touch. He demonstrated Bashir’s value with caresses, and after the human’s cathartic release he pretended not to see the stray tears but allowed them both the comfort of falling asleep together.

* * *

**Yore**

“In the days of yore -”

“My what?”

“Not that your. Y-O-R-E. Days past.”

“Is this tale going to require the translator or will my meager Federation Standard suffice?” Garak’s tone is sharp, but he’s recovering from his implant addiction so Julian lets it slide.

“Why don’t you let me get back to telling it and we’ll find out? In the days of yore, there was a beautiful princess -”

“Do any of your ‘fairy tales’ feature ugly princesses?”

“None come to mind.”

“I’d prefer it for the verisimilitude.”

“Now you’re just showing off your Standard word of the day.”

* * *

**Zenith**

After years of watching the wormhole, Julian enjoys the novelty of seeing Earth in the sky. Their condo has a balcony which looks out over Mayweather Park, perfect for skygazing. Tonight Earth is already at their zenith, casting New Berlin in soft light which gives Garak’s face fascinating shadows. The light sets a romantic mood and Julian leans in to kiss an eyeridge.

“I had no idea Earth made you so sentimental.”

“Trying to seduce you.” He kisses the other eyeridge. “Work with me.”

“All for a good cause, I suppose.”

They kiss in the Earthlight for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> "Disable" quotes the modern Hippocratic Oath written by Louis Lasagna in 1964.


End file.
